The temperature was beginning rise as winter finally began releasing Lima from its tight hold as the month turned from March to April and it finally began to feel like spring. It was evidence by the immediate appearance of shorter sleeves, pants and anything else that could be condensed and still pass the school's dress code. Rachel sauntered into school, her pink trolley rolling behind her in a brand new skirt that she and Kurt picked out the week before. She had been waiting for the weather to be just right before she paired it with her favorite green blouse and the gorgeous Star of David necklace her fathers had given her for Hanukah. Kurt had mentioned how amazing it would look on her and she was proud to show off her first Kurt Hummel created outfit. She beamed as she found her best friend at his locker and called his name from down the hall.

Kurt looked to see his best friend at the mouth of the hallway, coming towards him with an extra spring her step. He gave her a quick look over and the corner of his mouth turned upward. He'd taken his advice on the ensemble and he'd somehow managed to turn her usually tragic wardrobe into something that complimented his friend. She was really a beautiful girl; she just sometimes managed to dress like a toddler and an elderly woman at the same time. It was usually discouraging for Kurt since his eye and passion for fashion made him want to drag her and her dads' credit card to the mall and buy her new clothes before burning the animal sweaters. But Kurt had settled on using what was already in Rachel's closet and made it…bearable to look at. And as Rachel approached him, he knew he was on the right track.

"Looking fierce Ms. Berry," Kurt said as Rachel stopped in front of him then did a full 360 degree turn.

"Thank you," Rachel said doing a tiny curtsey, "I have a fabulous new stylist. He could work miracles."

"Don't I know it," Kurt said placing a book into his locker.

"What about you?" Rachel said tugging at the hem of Kurt's long sleeved white t-shirt, with the sleeves pushed up just a little. He'd paired amazingly with a grey vest and a pair of black jeans, "I thought this would have been a perfect moment to show off that amazing shirt you bought last week."

"Oh, uh—"Kurt said not looking Rachel in the eye, "I'm saving it for another day."

"Okay," Rachel said tugging again on the hem of Kurt's shirt, "but why are you wearing this? It's much too warm out."

"I didn't check the weather before I left the house," Kurt said as he began fumbling through the books in his locker, "I was running late so by the time I realized it was going to be too warm, there wasn't any time to go back and redesign today's outfit."

"You could at least roll this up a little more," Rachel said tugging at the left sleeve of the shirt then paused when something caught her eye, "What is that?"

Kurt froze and Rachel pulled at his sleeve until she could have a better look. Blemishing Kurt's usually perfect skin were several bruises, all fresh, all screaming against his pale skin in blues and purples.

"Kurt," Rachel said panicked, "What happened?"

"It's nothing," Kurt said pulling Rachel's hand from his sleeve before pulling the bottom down a little farther.

"Kurt," Rachel said, "those look like someone's fingers, like someone grabbed you. Was it Karofsky?"

"No," Kurt said quickly, "It's nothing, just drop it."

"Kurt," Rachel said her eyes glassy with an army of tears ready to fall to her cheeks.

"Rachel," Kurt interrupted, "It's nothing, just an accident. They'll go away so please don't bring them up again."

Rachel looked up into the eyes of her best friend. They were terrified, pleading with her for once just to let it go. Rachel nodded reluctantly.

When Rachel went to meet Kurt at his locker the next morning, the moment he spotted her he turned up his nose, adjusted the strap on his bag and walked away. No words were exchanged; he just left Rachel bewildered and hurt in the middle of the hallway. Rachel tried approaching him between as many classes as she could, but he either wasn't at his locker or took off again the moment he heard her calling from down the hallway. She'd sent countless text messages throughout the day and when Kurt didn't show up for Glee rehearsal, she called him immediately, but received nothing but his voicemail.

Rachel spent what time she wasn't in class or trying to track Kurt down, trying to figure out what she'd done wrong to make Kurt ignore her the way he was. The last time he'd been like this with her was when she'd accidently scratched the copy of the Wicked soundtrack and he didn't talk to her until she purchased him a new copy.

Rachel spent all the time she wasn't in class or trying to track Kurt down, trying to figure out what she'd done wrong to make Kurt ignore her the way he was. The last time he'd been like this with her was when she'd accidentally scratched the copy of the Wicked soundtrack he'd lent her and didn't talk to her until she purchased him a new one. But Rachel wasn't currently in possession of any of his things and they were fine when they'd parted the day before after Glee. Still, she couldn't get him to not run away every time she approached over even look her in the eye.

They'd been friends since first grade. Rachel had moved to Lima with her dads and was starting Lima Elementary in the middle of the school year. On her very first day she saw a boy, sitting by himself on the playground. There was a book on his lap but Rachel sat down next to him, introduced herself and then they just became friends. It wasn't long after that that that the teasing began for both of them. Kurt and Rachel would have tea parties instead of playing hopscotch with the other girls, or football with the boys. But together they'd managed to get through elementary school, then junior high school, and they were determined to finish high school and leave Lima for good.

Rachel wondered why Kurt would act the way he was towards her when they'd been through so much. Rachel asked the other members of New Direction if they'd spoken to Kurt, but found that her best friend seemed to be avoiding everyone. He wasn't at lunch and all text messages were going unanswered.

Rachel continued her attempts at contacting Kurt over the weekend, trying every method of communication and social media with the exception of actually showing up on his doorstep. There was one thing that kept her for 7625 Windsor Street and that was Uncle Tim. When Kurt's dad died, Uncle Tim created a strict rule that none of Kurt's friends were to come over to the house under any circumstances. Rachel had always gotten a weird vibe from the older man and didn't dare risk angering him. Kurt had said that he was just having trouble adjusting to his new role as guardian and had no idea how to handle teenagers.

Monday morning, after two days of constant text messages and voicemails, Rachel searched the crowded hallways for Kurt once more. She had yet to locate him when Mr. Shuester, their choir direction, approached her.

"Rachel," he said, "Can I talk to you in my office?"

"Mr. Shuester," Rachel said, "I promise I will give you my undivided attention as soon as I find Kurt."

"Rachel, I need to talk to you," Mr. Shuester said, pausing only for a moment, "about Kurt."

Rachel went quiet, giving her teacher her full attention as she followed Mr. Shuester to his office. At his request, Rachel took a seat in front his desk while the Glee director sat behind his desk, messing around with some papers before looking at Rachel.

"Rachel," Mr. Shuester said, "Kurt came to me this morning and told me he would be quitting Glee club."

"What? Why?"

"He just said that it was personal," Mr. Shuester said, "And—and he asked me to ask you to keep your distance from him. At least for now."

"He didn't tell you why?" Rachel exclaimed, "Mr. Shuester, this is very unlike Kurt."

"I agree with you Rachel," Mr. Shuester explained, "But if Kurt is going through something personal, we have to respect that."

"I don't like it," Rachel said pouting, her arms crossed across her chest.

"You don't have to. But you really should respect Kurt's wishes."

Rachel huffed annoyed but then a moment later the tears began racing down her face. Her best friend was going through something that he couldn't tell her about. He was shutting her out and had to have their teacher tell her to stay away. Something was wrong. Nothing made sense. But Mr. Shuester was right; there was nothing more to than respect Kurt's choices and wait around for him to come back to her.

Almost eighteen months later she was still waiting.

A month after Blaine suggested the ridiculous (yet brilliant) idea that he and Kurt become 'locker buddies', things seemed to have gotten tenser between the boys. Blaine was certain that Kurt was ignoring him since only once had Kurt and Blaine actually been at their lockers at the same time. Blaine made no effort to talk to Kurt, he'd made the effort, and it would be Kurt's move if something were to change. But, even in his absence, Blaine found himself becoming more intrigued by Kurt. He wanted to know why Kurt was so reluctant to accept any form of kindness from Blaine. It seemed that Kurt not being around only made Blaine think about him more.

Blaine walked into the choir room for Glee rehearsal and took his seat next to Rachel. Sectionals were coming up in a couple of weeks and Rachel was very adamant that they add in extra practices. This was why Blaine wasn't surprised a bit when, just as Mr. Shuester entered the room, Rachel jumped from her seat and announced that they would be having a practice Saturday afternoon. This was met with a chorus of aggravated groans but as Rachel continued on about how this was the year to beat Vocal Adrenaline and win Nationals, the atmosphere shifted and excitement began to blow through the room like wind.

Blaine had only heard of Vocal Adrenaline while was at Dalton, but the members of New Directions seemed to have an intense hatred for the Caramel High team. Blaine admired their determination to win and Blaine, their male lead but still the new guy, was happy to help however he could.

Saturday afternoon during one of the breaks, Blaine sat down next to Rachel on the stage. They were sweaty from two straight hours of dance rehearsal.

"I know you want to ask me about him?" Rachel said taking a sip from her pink plastic water bottle.

"Huh?"

"Kurt," Rachel said, "I know you want to know about him."

"I'm just trying to figure out why he hates me," Blaine explained.

"He doesn't hate you," Rachel said, "Kurt's never really hated anyone in his entire life."

"You seem so sure,"

"I've known him since the first grade," Rachel told Blaine, "I was there when his mom died, and then his dad. I was the first person he came out to. I know him better than anybody."

"But he's shutting you out? You know him so well but he just stops talking to you one day and you have no idea why."

"I don't know what's going on with him, Blaine," Rachel said her voice rising a bit, "I just know he decided we weren't friends anymore."

"So who is he friends with?" Blaine asked.

"No one," Rachel stated, "Not that I know of."

"So he just ignores everyone? Talks to no one?"

"I think so. Blaine, it was like a switch had been flipped. One day he was Kurt. He was criticizing everyone's outfit, including my own. We were planning for a weekend of movies and yet another make over. And the next day, it was like Kurt was gone. I mean it looked like Kurt; but that spark, that flicker in his eye that made him who he was, it was gone. He'd been replaced by someone who hasn't looked me in the eye in over a year. He was my best friend, Blaine. And now he's a stranger."

Blaine could hear the waver in Rachel's voice as she spoke of the friend, the best friend, she once had. It was obviously hard for her to think of her friendship with Kurt as something in the past. But with a tiny sniffle and a deep breath, Rachel managed to keep her composure while fighting the tears and missing Kurt.

Since the first time Uncle Tim had gotten physical with Kurt, he had begun classifying his days into good days and bad days. Good days were those where he managed to avoid Uncle Tim completely, or managed to retreat to his bedroom with little no contact. Kurt considered the day he burned his hand to be a good day.

Kurt's first sign that today would be a bad day was the presence of Uncle Tim's car in the driveway when he arrived home from school. Never before had Uncle Tim returned from work early. Kurt stood like a statue in front of the house. Every part of him was screaming for him to turn around, but he couldn't not go home. He had nowhere to go, no friend's house to escape to. And even if he did, running would only make it worse. Running would only make him angrier. Kurt took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare himself for whatever was inevitable and his feet lead his up the driveway and through the front door.

When Kurt walked into the house, Uncle Tim was nowhere in sight. There was an eerie quietness in the house, the only sounds were Kurt's heart beating frantically in his chest and the thoughts swimming through his mind as he forced himself to become hyper aware of his surroundings. The sound of glass shattering broke the silence and increased the tension in the air. Kurt stayed planted in front of the door, unsure of what to do. His hands began to tremble so he clasped them together over his stomach; it didn't help. Another crash echoed through the house and Kurt's heart nearly stopped at the realization that the sound was coming from his bedroom. Without much thought, Kurt walked quickly down the hall and stood in front of his bedroom, the door wide open.

What Kurt saw was much worse than anything he could have imagined. His once well-kept room now looked like it had been destroyed by a tornado. The drapes had been pulled down from the rod now bent in front of the window. His closet was open and most of his cloth had been removed and now lay in various places around the room, undoubtedly wrinkled. What was once his bedside lamp now lay in pieces underneath the place where his Wicked poster once hung on the wall.

Kurt stood, wide-eyed but silent, as Uncle Tim stood in the middle of the bedroom throwing Kurt's hamper onto the floor before punting it towards the wall. Kurt spied his easel, which had several new designs on it, on the ground, the pages wrinkled and torn beside it.

When Uncle Tim stopped suddenly, it took Kurt a moment to stop taking in the damage that had been done to his room and to his things, and notice the fury in Uncle Tim's eyes as it was directed towards him.

"You," Uncle Tim spat taking three steps to the threshold where Kurt stood stunned. Uncle Tim grabbed hold of Kurt's right arm and dragged him into the room, letting go only to send him crashing into the side of the desk before Kurt could stop himself.

"This is your fault," Uncle Tim shouted even though he was three feet from Kurt who opened his mouth to question Uncle Tim, but choose against it as the other man continued, "I could have had it good. But I got stuck with a dead end job in Lima because your father wanted you to stay here with your friends. I couldn't go to Columbus like I wanted. So instead of having the job of my dreams, I have no job at all."

Kurt's eyes widened at Uncle Tim's words. No so much at the confession that Uncle Tim had lost his job, but for the realization of what that meant for Kurt. It meant that Uncle Tim would not disappear to work during the day. He would be home all day, doing God only knew what. He would be there when Kurt got home, undoubtedly drunk. Kurt offered no apology, because there wasn't anything Kurt could say that would be genuine.

Uncle Tim must have taken offense to Kurt's silence because he grabbed him by his upper arms and threw him into the wall sending Kurt's head crashing into the drywall. The wall had been much gentler than the metal lockers he'd been thrown into earlier that day. But Uncle Tim didn't let go, instead he thrust Kurt in the opposite direction. Kurt's feet became caught in his comforter that was now on the floor, sending his body crashing into the carpet.

Kurt cried out as an intense pain shot through his right arm when he landed. Kurt panicked, thinking his arm was broken. He rolled over to remove his weight from his arm and then tried to lift it. His arm wasn't broken; instead there was a rather large piece of light bulb now embedded in his arm.

Kurt looked up at his uncle, his arm cradled against his chest as he lay on the floor.

"Good," Uncle Tim said looking down at Kurt, "Now you feel a little bit of what I'm feeling."

Uncle Tim lifted his foot then kicked Kurt forcefully in the stomach. Kurt's eyes closed and he groaned as the air left his lungs. He tried to prepare himself for more, but nothing ever came. When Kurt opened his eyes he found Uncle Tim, standing in the middle of the room, his back towards Kurt. He was breathing heavy as he ran his hands through his hair.

"Clean up this room," Uncle Tim muttered as he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.